


Christmas Miracles

by superangsty



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Post Avengers, also they have a kid, phil died etc etc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superangsty/pseuds/superangsty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written (very vaguely) for the prompt: Clint and Phil were a family with a daughter before Phil got killed on the helicarrier. Clint leaves the Avengers to raise the kid and then 2 years later Phil shows up again to ask Clint help with Shield. Clint is horrified that his husband has abandoned their child, he wants nothing to do with Phil and refuses to forgive him. Lots of angst ensue. Eventual happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Miracles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fata_Morgana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fata_Morgana/gifts).



When Clint found himself being shaken awake, his first instinct was to reach for the gun under his pillow, to jump out of bed and rush to defend his home from whatever was causing such alarm. But when his eyes snapped open he saw a look not of terror, but of excitement on his daughter’s face. And then he remembered – it was Christmas day. He glanced over at the alarm clock by his bed – it was set to go off at seven, and since he hadn’t heard anything it meant that it was earlier than that, aaaaaannnd yep, he was right. 3 am. Great.

“Sweetie, go back to bed.” He grumbled, pulling his blankets closer around him.

She hopped up and sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing excitedly. “But it’s Christmaaaaass. I need presentsss.”

“No, Katie-Kate, ‘s too early for presents. Go back to sleep.”

“But Daddy. _Christmas._ ”

God, five-year-olds could be annoying sometimes.

“Fine. You can have the presents in your stocking. But nothing else, okay?”

And with that, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

 

~***~

 

At a more suitable time, aka once Clint had given up resisting Kate’s efforts to get him out of bed, the two of them were sitting cross-legged by the tree whilst she tore th wrapping paper from her presents. Just like the previous two years, she asked him why Father Christmas hadn’t left any presents for him, only for her. And, like every year, he responded with the argument that Father Christmas only leaves presents for children, not grown-ups.

Neither of them mentioned the fact that he _used to_ get his own stack of presents under the tree each year, before their world got ripped apart.

He always wondered if she even remembered before, or if it was too long ago to her for it to stay on her mind.

A high pitched voice announcing that she was “Finished!” brought Clint out of his thoughts, and he quickly downed the rest of his coffee before standing and swinging Kate up into his arms.

“Well then, you know the rules. You can’t play with these toys until later.” He paused for a moment, making a point of ignoring her protests before continuing. “So, in the meantime, do you want pancakes for breakfast?”

“Yeah!”

Within a few minutes, the first few pancakes were made, and Kate sat up on the kitchen counter happily munching on them whilst Clint finished making the rest.

“Daddy,” she started, speaking between mouthfuls, “is Aunty Nat going to visit today?”

“Of course she is, but not until dinner. She’s gonna spend the morning with the rest of the Avengers.”

“Huh.” Kate continued to chew, considering. “Can _we_ go to the ‘vengers too?”

“No, we- no. I’m not an Avenger. They wouldn’t want me intruding.”

“Uncle Tony said you _used_ to be one.”

“Uncle Tony is exaggerating. I only helped them once.”

“Why don’t you help them anymore?”

“Because that’s how we lost your Papa. You won’t lose me too.”

 

~***~

 

Lunch on Christmas day had always been a fairly quiet affair in their household. Neither Clint or Phil had any surviving relatives, so they would spend the entire day with just each other’s company, with Nat intruding as soon as she dragged herself out of bed; Christmas had been the only day that she allowed herself to sleep in. In the evening, Hill, May, Sitwell and their various significant others would join them for drinks. When Kate came along, the routine didn’t actually change as much as they expected it would, although everyone _did_ seem to spend more time cooing over her than they did actually talking to one another.

And then the battle of New York happened, and all their old traditions just… stopped.

People would either spend their Christmases with their families instead, or, in Natasha’s case, with the Avengers at Stark’s tower. She’d invited Clint and Kate along as well, of course, but it felt wrong to spend the holidays with a group of people he’d already refused to work with. Besides, he didn’t want to disrupt Kate’s life _even more_.

He couldn’t help but notice that as soon as Phil was gone, their friends were gone too. Sure, they supported him, but it wasn’t the same. Guess that showed who their friendship had _really_ been with.

 

~***~

 

Later in the morning, once they’d finished breakfast, Kate was happily playing with her new toys in the living room, whilst Clint was working through the seemingly endless list of people that he needed to either call or text to say merry Christmas. It was tedious, to say the least, having to smile and pretend to care about all of the random extended family members. But hey, he only had to do it once a year, and had the other 364 days to ignore them all as usual.

Making all of these calls meant that Clint lost track of time, so when he heard a knock at the door he had a moment of panic; the only person who’d be visiting was Natasha, and he wasn’t nearly ready for her to get there, hadn’t even started cooking. He put down the phone and address book, quickly popping his head round the door of Kate’s room to make sure that she was sufficiently distracted. He wouldn’t want her to be at the door with him, just in case it _wasn’t_ Natasha.

“Hello?” Clint greeted, as he swung the door open.

“Hi.”

The voice sounded eerily familiar, so much so that Clint froze in place, only just barely managing to force himself to actually _look_ at the visitor. Once his brain finally managed to focus, confirming that yes, he had really heard what he thought he had, and yes, he was really seeing what he thought he was, his thoughts went into overload, because _holyshitPhilisherePhilisalive???he’snotdeadholyshit._

And then he punched him in the face.

When he threw the punch, his hand hit warm skin and solid bone, once again confirming that yes, that really _was_ his husband standing at the door. The one that’d been dead for over two years.

“Well, I suppose I deserved that…” Phil chuckled weakly before continuing “Merry Christmas.”

“You have a _lot_ of explaining to do.”


End file.
